


Not in Love.

by lusteralliance (orphan_account)



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: (at least to glenn), (kind of), ARE YALL READY, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Study, Denial of Feelings, First Kiss, First Time, Forbidden Love, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Irony, Love Confessions, M/M, Neck Kissing, Non-Explicit Sex, Scar Kissing, au in which miklan isnt a trash brother and loves sylvain and just wants his dads love, baby sylvain and baby felix are so cute, bc i physically am not, first glenn/miklan fic here babes woooooo, for all of you who wanted the non-general audiences version of puppy love..., forgive me for errors, heh..oh lord.., i let em have a bit more fun..., ive always wondered about these two bros, like....whats their story..their life..their love..yknow..yfeel me.., so I wrote this, thats in part 2 there are two parts and they're dRASTICALLY different, the irony hurts so bad im telling you, this is basically it, wifi is driving me crazy this took eons to even set up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2020-09-25 09:49:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20374777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/lusteralliance
Summary: Glenn has never been in love with Miklan, and as far as he can tell, there's a great chance that he never will be.





	Not in Love.

**Author's Note:**

> PART ONE: cute brothers, soft and sad, cute brothers
> 
> PART TWO: cute brothers, WHOA SLOW DOWN, soft and bittersweet
> 
> separated by a "//" !

"Sylvain!"  


"Felix!"  


Glenn smiled as his little brother let go of his hand and raced forward, leaping into the arms of his friend. Miklan, Sylvain's older brother, waved to Sylvain after he turned his head to see him. The little redhead waved back, then grabbed Felix's arm and scurried away to school.  


"Bye, Glenn!" Felix called, his amber eyes bright with excitement, and Glenn raised a hand in lax farewell. He dearly hoped his little brother would never lose that happy spunk as the two younger boys raced off to catch their classes.  


Miklan sighed. "Lil' rascals."  


Glenn laughed and sat down on the stone bench by the entrance of his brother's primary school, Miklan strolling over to join him. He was a handsome boy with bold hazel eyes and scruffy hair like his little brother, and he had a crooked smile that would usually seem unnerving. But on his shapely face and under his hawkish nose, it felt just right.  


Glenn was glad he was already engaged, or else he wouldn't be able to keep his hands off him.  


"Can't believe they're going to have to grow up someday," the swordsman lamented, running his gloved fingers through his sleek navy hair. Miklan nodded, folding his arms over his overcoat.  


"I just can't believe Sylvain's gonna have to walk himself to school someday."  


The winter chill that was common in Faerghus—even in early spring and late fall—urged those who cared about their own well-being to wear at least three layers. Glenn blinked at Miklan's words and glanced sideways at him.  


"What do you mean? You can walk him however long you want. You can even escort him to the Officer's Academy, if that's what floats your boat," he grinned. Miklan smiled too, but just for an instant. He cast his hazel eyes down on the frosty grass, nudging an icy twig with the toe of his boot. "...Miklan?"  


"Hm? Oh. Um. Yeah, sorry, I'm just...overthinking everything," Miklan spluttered, and he flashed Glenn his crooked smile and leaned his head over the back of the stone bench, gazing up at the white winter sky. Glenn scooted a little closer to his friend and did the same, his eyes unfocusing and focusing in the dingy blankness, searching for depth, for something to hold onto.  


"I can tell there's something that's clearly bothering you."  


Miklan coughed uneasily, scratching his head. "No, no, it's—um…."  


Glenn turned his head, a few locks of his long hair tickling his exposed neck when he did so. "Talk to me, Miklan. You know you can _always_ talk to me."  


Miklan glanced at him from the corner of his eye, then turned his head to face him. Glenn smiled comfortingly; there was clearly something wrong. Miklan was a strong-willed boy who could handle almost everything. What could possibly be troubling him?  


"I...my father…" Miklan looked back up into the sky. Glenn's amber eyes widened when he saw the beginnings of tears pooling on his friend's lashes. "He...he, um…."  


Glenn sat up and crossed his legs on the bench, patting the cold stone in front of him and beckoning Miklan to do the same. Miklan took a shuddering breath and did what Glenn asked, his back hunched and his hands clasped tightly together in his lap.  


"What did he do?"  


Miklan bit his lip, looking about in the emptying schoolyard. Then, he got to his feet.  


"...Let's talk inside."

-

Glenn shut the door of his room behind him, Miklan looking troubled where he stood by Glenn's bed. The young swordsman opened the curtains to let in some soft daylight, then urged his friend to sit on the side of his bed. Miklan hesitantly did so, kicking off his shoes as Glenn did the same before crawling on next to him.  


"Okay. What...what happened this time?"  


Miklan bit his lip, his previous tears dried. "He...he got upset, when he saw me training with Sylvain. I beat him, of course, and my father just...wasn't having it." He shook his head, his voice trembling a little.  


"Mm-hmm," Glenn prompted, softly.  


"And—and...he went off about me having to train him to win, not to lose, and I said that's not how it works at all, and...he hit me…." Miklan squeezed his eyes shut when his voice broke. Glenn did his best not to express his confusion. The young lancer had been hit before by Margrave Gautier and walked away without skipping a beat; why was this time different?  


"Where?" Glenn murmured.  


Miklan hesitated, then raised his head. Glenn peered under his chin, above the furs of his collar, and he gasped. A dark, ugly bruise was forming over his throat.  


"Oh, goddess…!" Glenn breathed. Miklan nodded, lowering his head again. Bitter resentment at Margrave Gautier boiled in Glenn's stomach. What was so bad about being crestless that Miklan had to get struck in the throat?  


"It's...it's okay, it doesn't hurt anymore," Miklan lied faintly. Glenn grabbed his hand and squeezed it tight.  


"Don't lie, Miklan…! Oh, I wish I had been there—"  


"To do what, punch _him_ in the throat?" Miklan snapped, pulling his hand away. "This is what I've got to deal with. It's only going to make me stronger. Don't worry, Glenn."  


"You—" Glenn gritted his teeth. "You really are a fool. The biggest in all of Fodlan." Miklan looked up a little at that. "That's not how it works! You don't get stronger by sucking it up and letting others beat you down! You stand up and you fight, and even if you can't win, you can lose with the knowledge that you were brave enough to challenge the monster that dared to try and break you down."  


Miklan narrowed his hazel eyes, making Glenn's heart skip a beat. "That's not how it works either. If I stand up for myself, I'm marking my own tomb. He's Margrave Gautier. I can't do anything against him. And...and he's my father. I'd rather—I'd rather die than harm anyone of my blood."  


Hot tears were dribbling down his face, in the soft morning sunlight that filtered through Glenn's dusty window. Miklan let them fall, glaring at the dark spots they created on Glenn's blankets with an unfamiliar hatred. Glenn touched his wrist again, then held his hand once more.  


"...How much does it hurt?"  


"It hurts so bad…."  


Glenn wiped away Miklan's tears with his sleeve, then slipped off the edge of the bed and let go of Miklan's hand. His old friend gasped a little, and Glenn tugged the curtains shut before drifting back to his side. The dim light traced the side of Miklan's face, and it glistened in his bitter tears.  


Before Miklan could ask what he was doing, Glenn unfastened his collar and nosed his way close to Miklan's throat. He felt the young lancer's breath sputter when he kissed the bruise, then touched his forehead to it to feel his racing, feverish pulse.  


"Don't tell anyone I did that," Glenn whispered. "Especially not Ingrid."  


"...Okay."  


Glenn raised his head, touching his nose to Miklan's. He cupped his friend's face, and he felt Miklan's own fingertips brush the backs of his hands. Glenn didn't kiss him, because he didn't want to kiss him, feel him, hold him, heal him.  


He didn't kiss Miklan because he wasn't in love with him. And Miklan didn't kiss Glenn because he didn't need him the way Glenn didn't.  


Miklan sighed softly, and he brushed his face against Glenn's shoulder. Glenn hugged him tightly and breathed in his scent, his nose pushed against his friend's neck. In the safety of shadow, they laced their fingers together and found strength in one another, breathing in time, whispering gently. They were safe, just for a little while. And that was all they needed.

-

"Miklaaaaan! Guess what!"  


Miklan caught his little brother when Sylvain launched himself at him, his knapsack rattling with its contents. Glenn knelt down and mussed Felix's hair when he came and hugged him sheepishly.  


"Oog, you're so heavy! What?"  


"I caught a fish!"  


"No way! Did you guys go to the pond?"  


"Yeah! Dimitri caught one that was _this big!_"  


"Oh, awesome. I wish I could've seen yours, buddy."  


"You can! I still have it!"  


"WHAT?"  


Glenn laughed a little at Miklan's horror as Sylvain, now standing on the cobblestone walkway leading from his school, rummaged through his bag and brought out an entire salmon before handing it cheerfully to his brother.  


"Did you catch anything today, Fe?" Glenn asked his little brother. Felix shook his head, his amber eyes sad. "Aww. Hey, I'll take you fishing next week, what do you say?"  


"Oh...okay!" Felix peeped, and Glenn pulled him into his arms and got to his feet. Miklan was wiping his gloved hand on his pants as Sylvain stuffed his fish back into his knapsack, and he looked up when Glenn walked over.  


"...See you tomorrow," the swordsman murmured. Miklan shook his hand, then held onto it. He gave Glenn his crooked smile, his hazel eyes soft with something Glenn couldn't decipher.  


"Yeah."  


They gazed at each other until Felix asked, "Why are you holding hands so long?" Glenn and Miklan quickly released each other, laughing awkwardly.  


"Maybe because they're maybe in love," whispered Sylvain from where he clung to his brother's knee. Miklan pinched his cheek indignantly, and Glenn grinned.  


"Wait! But you're married to Ingrid!" protested Felix. "She'll be sad!"  


"No, we're not married, Felix," Glenn told him. "Just engaged."  


"But are you in love with my brother?" Sylvain questioned, loudly, and Miklan grabbed him by his ankle and slung him over his shoulder. "Eek! My fish!"  


Glenn didn't answer, and neither did Miklan, and the two friends said farewell before heading home. Glenn smiled into Felix's hair as he walked, knowing that he'd give Sylvain the answer he wanted if he looked back.

-

//

-

"You guys can go home with Dimitri today for a sleepover, okay?" Glenn told Felix and Sylvain. "We asked and everything. Ingrid will be there too."  


"Yaaaay!" the two little boys cheered, and Miklan laughed and ruffled Sylvain's hair.  


"Okay. Go on, now, we'll see you tomorrow," the lancer told them. They waved and trotted away happily to school.  


"I'll tell Ingrid you said hi!" Felix called back, and Glenn chuckled.  


"Thanks!"

-

"Ah! Hey—Glenn, that's...that's not playing fair…."  


Glenn whispered into Miklan's bruise, "Who said we were playing fair?" before biting gently at it again. His friend gasped out with pain, gripping his handful of Glenn's covers to steady himself. Glenn was on his elbows and knees over Miklan on his bed, one of his friend's hands holding the back of his neck.  


"Nngh...ow, ow! _Ah, Glenn, stop…!_"  


Glenn released him, and Miklan collapsed against his friend's pillow, panting and groaning, shivering head to toe. Glenn licked his lips, feeling a twinge of regret as Miklan pressed his palm to his throat to feel where Glenn had bitten and sucked at his skin, a mockery of his father's crimes.  


"Sorry...are you okay?"  


Miklan nodded, his hazel eyes half open.  


"Yeah...yeah, I'm okay." He stared at Glenn, and Glenn stared back, and Miklan continued to stare even when Glenn inched closer, now kneeling beside him on the soft blankets. He ran a hand up and down Miklan's chest, gently, and he closed his eyes and nudged his face forward.  


Then, Miklan touched his cheek to stop him, and he blinked in confusion.  


"We shouldn't...we shouldn't kiss," Miklan whispered softly. "We...we aren't lovers."  


"...Lovers? Miklan, I just sucked your neck," Glenn reminded him, insult, indignance, amusement all mixing in his low voice. Miklan sighed, touching Glenn's face again.  


"Okay, but...that's different." Glenn raised an eyebrow at him, and he covered his face as he smirked, and they both laughed.  


"You can take off my pants and ride me good but no kissing, no sir!"  


Miklan laughed, his hands clutching his chest as Glenn mimed ripping off his trousers and making some more lewd gestures.  


"Ahahaha! And—_snrk_—and you can suck till you choke and call me 'daddy' but if you even _think_ about touching my lips with yours…!"  


Glenn laughed and laughed, flopping against Miklan's chest and muffling his mirth with his friend's shirt.  


"Hee hee…" The young swordsman wiped the amused tears from his eye with a finger, looking up into Miklan's face. Miklan was smiling crookedly at him, his face flushed and his hazel eyes bright. "You're _going_ to kiss me, aren't you?"  


"Obviously. But...as friends." Miklan grinned and lowered his face, and he placed a light peck on Glenn's lips. It felt like fire—not the all-encompassing kind Glenn had heard about from his friends, but a tiny, promising kind, like the sparks created by the click of flint and steel.  


"That was nice. Do it again."  


"You're the boss." Miklan kissed him another time, but a little longer. Glenn kissed back, touching his friend's chin with the tips of his fingers. He was glad he had stripped to his undershirt and leggings, as it was already starting to get too warm in his dimly lit room. Miklan was dressed in the same attire, and Glenn felt a bead of sweat on his cheek. It melted at his touch and ran down his finger as a rivulet of warmth, and he shuddered.  


"Again."  


Miklan kissed him another time without hesitation, his hand gently stroking Glenn's cheek, his friend's head in his lap. Glenn parted his lips to let out a feeble sigh, and he jumped when he felt Miklan's tongue slip into his mouth, deepening their kiss. Glenn's hands shook, and he grabbed fistfuls of Miklan's ruddy hair, feeling vulnerable at his mercy.  


"Mmh...mmm…." Glenn whimpered into Miklan's lips, and Miklan nodded, moving Glenn's head with him. He pulled away after a bit of a struggle, trying to free himself from Glenn's desperate grasp.  


"You really needed that kiss," Miklan teased, wiping the drool that had edged over the corner of Glenn's mouth. Glenn panted breathlessly, his amber eyes half closed.  


"...I want...need...more…." he rasped, and he grinned when he felt a certain pressure under his head where it rested in Miklan's lap.  


"Anything in mind?" Miklan whispered, massaging Glenn's scalp with his fingertips. Glenn leaned his head back between Miklan's crossed legs, letting his eyes flutter shut as he hummed in pretend thought.  


"Oh...I don't know." Miklan held his breath. "Maybe…?"  


"Say it," the young lancer breathed. "I'm not a good guesser." Glenn bit his lip, and he opened his eyes and looked up at Miklan. His keen hazel gaze was glittering with shy desire, and Glenn felt the same.  


Glenn flipped slowly over, leaning his hands on Miklan's right knee and left thigh as he sat up a little. He let his hand dance from Miklan's knee, up and up his body until he stroked him under his chin. Miklan closed his eyes tightly, blushing harder, and Glenn leaned close, easing himself up and sitting gently into Miklan's lap. His lips brushed Miklan's ear.  


"...I want...I want you, Miklan…."  


Miklan lowered his head a little, then tipped it to the side so Glenn felt his friend's breath on his chin. He gulped, then pressed hard into his waiting lips, and Miklan held his waist as they kissed again, harder, deeper, again, again, longer, Miklan, Miklan, _Miklan._  


He pushed them down into the bed, slinging a leg over Glenn's hips to straddle him, and Glenn wrapped his arms tightly around Miklan's neck. He felt that if they stopped kissing, he would die. Miklan gave him strength, gave him life, and when he started to unbutton Glenn's shirt, he gave him delight and anticipation that ran through his limbs like lightning.  


Miklan inhaled sharply after he pulled away, and Glenn whined and gasped, trying to pull him nearer. He was on fire. He was burning, like embers given a gust of hot wind, and Miklan was his breath.  


"Ahh...Miklan…! Kiss me more...please, _please…._"  


"We'll be here forever if you keep telling me what to do," he hissed into Glenn's ear, and Glenn shivered with delight at his cruelty, his rebellion. He squirmed in his clothes, and Miklan freed him of his shirt and tossed it to the ground.  


Miklan smirked, and Glenn pressed his head back in the blankets in alacrity as his friend's fingertips, roughened from the handles of weaponry on the training ground, ran over his bare, finely toned chest.  


"You've been training."  


"Just for you…."  


"Have you, now?"  


"Well—no…."  


Miklan's touch disappeared from Glenn's chest, the swordsman's eyes tightly shut. "Good. Because I didn't train for you, so I'd feel bad if you did."  


Glenn heard the whisking of clothing as Miklan pulled his shirt over his head, and he peeked through narrowed eyes. They widened on their own, and he gave a shuddering gasp. Miklan had more brute strength than Glenn when they sparred together, and now, he knew where it all came from.  


"...Miklan…."  


Glenn reached up, and Miklan planted his hands on either side of Glenn's neck so he could feel him easier. The two friends—they were not lovers. Glenn knew this—sighed and gasped at each other's touch, and Glenn stretched his neck up and placed a soft, sheepish kiss on Miklan's chest. As if it were a piece of art, and he was defiling it.  


"Like that?" Miklan teased, and he lifted one of his hands and placed it on Glenn's face, slick with sweat. Glenn shivered and smiled into his palm, taking brief comfort before Miklan moved two of his fingers and brushed Glenn's lips. Glenn knew his intention, and it only made him hungrier for Miklan.  


So it came to Glenn with great shock and shame and humiliation that he could only muster up to Miklan's knuckle, and he coughed and choked until Miklan gasped and pulled his hand away.  


"Hey, are you okay?"  


"Mm-hmm…" Glenn covered his face with his hands, shivering for a different reason now. Miklan gently touched Glenn's wrist, and he pulled away when Glenn let out a tiny sob.  


"Glenn…!" Miklan clambered off of him and swept him up into his arms, pulling his hands from his face and wiping his tears. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to push you…."  


"Muh...Miklan…" Glenn pushed his face against Miklan's chest as he sniffled. "I'm sorry...I don't—I don't think I can—"  


"We don't have to do this if you don't want to," Miklan told him, cupping his face in his hands, and Glenn wriggled away from him.  


"No, that's just it...I want to, I want you, I want you so bad...but—I've never...I've never done this before. As...as you could probably tell." Glenn blushed softly, and Miklan smiled and wiped the tears from his cheeks.  


"Me neither. I'm honestly surprised I ended up on top…!" They both laughed and hugged each other close, then stared affectionately into each other's eyes.  


"I…" Glenn bit back his words. They weren't true, after all. He didn't love Miklan. They were friends. He was to marry Ingrid of House Galatea when she came of age; he was not allowed to love outside her home.  


"I love you, too," Miklan whispered suddenly, snapping him out of his thoughts, and Glenn gasped, flushing deeply. He smiled, and he felt another tear run over the corner of his mouth.  


"I want to love you," he breathed. "I want you to love _me_...I want to be yours. And I want you to be mine." There was a bittersweet pain in Miklan's gentle hazel eyes when he heard Glenn's words. "But I just don't think...this can happen."  


Miklan lent Glenn his crooked grin, and his eyes were still full of something Glenn couldn't understand before he pressed his lips to Glenn's forehead.  


"It's okay," he murmured into his skin. "I'll make sure it does. When we finish serving in the army, we'll run away together. We'll be happy. And you'll be mine...and I'll be yours."  


Glenn squeezed his eyes shut, pushing the tears that had welled up there down his cheeks, and he buried his face into Miklan's collarbone and cried.  


"Just promise you'll survive," Miklan laughed, and he kissed Glenn's cheek. "Promise. I want to hear it."  


"I...I promise…."  


Miklan tipped Glenn's chin upwards and kissed him softly, a different kiss from before. It filled him with a gentle lull of peace and safety, of birdsong, of a faraway place where they lived together beyond the fires of war. And Glenn felt the tears on his Miklan's cheeks when he brushed his face, and he sniffled and smiled when his friend—just for a little longer—backed away.  


"Now...all you have to do is not break it, and I can love you for real."


End file.
